Swept Away With The Tide
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: David is marooned on an island and is about to end his misery when a mermaid saves him. Scratch that; a merMAN. And thus, the pirate falls in love with the fish. .:. Kurtofsky AU oneshot split into seven parts based on time lapse. T for some content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Watched the new Pirates movie, PhilipXSerena became my OTP, they mentioned "forgiveness" and made me think of Kurtofsky, and then I saw a fanart on Tumblr of pirate!Dave and merman!Kurt... and thus, this was born. I don't even care if someone has already done this; because now it's MY turn.**

**-Which means that this is almost entirely MY OWN TAKE on mermaids, combining a few legends and _adding_ _in_ my own, so PLEASE don't sit there and tell me that this isn't like POTC4 or something, because I might have to use The Fury on you.  
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**Fanart by visionsthatihold (remove spaces): visionsthatihold. tumblr. com/post/5738815265/i-watched-pirates-4-this-weekend-and-i-thought**

**Song used later in story (remove spaces): w w w. sailorsongs. com/its_of_a_sailor_bold. html**

**##Originally a oneshot, but broken up to be read easier since it turned into 9,620 word in total.## (LOL XD )  
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**And clearly, this is an alternate universe in every sense of the term.**

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><p>I am not many things.<p>

I am a young man. I am a pirate. I am a good man. I am a sailor. I am a realist. I am stocky and strong, but I am also a weak man; cowardly to the point where I would rather run than fight, and I would not dare murder someone. I am also what the sea and my captain make me, and if that means being a thief, or a dishonest man, then so be it; I will be those, too.

What I am _not_ is everything else.

I am not a fool. I am not an idealist. I am not brave. I am not strong in willpower. I am also not a believer in anything besides what I can see, hear, and touch with my own eyes, ears, and hands. And I am not a man of false hopes or complex thought.

So when I was marooned for trying to mutineer against my captain – a ruthless woman by the name of Sue Sylvester – I weighed my options, studied my single-shot pistol, and thought long and hard and logically. I went to school for five years; my surrogate parents saw to that. I was an orphan, but they took me in and tried to educate me. So I try to think and speak with as much coherency as I can, unlike the other pirates around me.

But I wanted to be a free man. And one night, at a bar, a man told me that I could grain freedom by being a man of the sea. It got me to this point, being a pirate and a wanted man and a filthy soul. I've never killed anyone with my own hand, but I've seen people die without stopping it, and that makes my hands just as red as any pirate's.

Sighing, I set aside my pistol. It's meant to be used to signal a passing ship or kill myself. But if I want to kill myself, I would rather drown in the sea that birthed me. I hardly remember my life before being a pirate, since I became one at the age of eleven, and I'm currently… huh. You know, I haven't counted in a while. But I think I'm twenty-two. I think it's been eleven years out at sea. It must be, because I feel over twenty.

I stand, stumbling a little, wishing for a sip of rum just enough to taste it before I give up. I've been stranded here for two weeks, living on a small pool of fresh water in the center of the small island in the Caribbean and eating coconuts, crab, and small fish. And when they're ripe, I eat a few of the limes I find growing on trees to keep from getting scurvy like so many pirates before me.

I wade out into the water, out on the rocky side of the island, the bit that was a volcano at one point. The waves crash violently around me; I can smell the salt in the air so pungently it makes my eyes burn. The rocks are slippery and jagged, and one cuts my forearm; just a scrape, but the saltwater makes it sting in throbbing waves up my arm.

"Take me to your God forsaken locker, Davvy Jones, you scoundrel below a bastard's whore! I deserve it! _Take me!"_ I scream as a storm approaches in the distance, turning the evening sky from sunset to pitch dark.

I don't know if it's the burn of the water in my eyes or the hopelessness of my state of being, but I begin to cry.

I should have never left home. I should have finished school. I should have become a better man than this, should have gotten a decent job or worked for the crown or stopped at least some of the grief and death that I've come across. Or I shouldn't have tried to be brave and bold by going up against someone like Sylvester.

As the rain starts to come down – slowly at first, then pouring like the sky is as much in despair as I am – I start to laugh and weep, singing softly to myself as I walk deeper and deeper into the water.

The waves rise, and I spread out my arms to welcome the tide. It crashes into me, knocking me off my feet. I swirl and tumble in the water, head over heels, my thoughts a jumble, and my heart as loud as thunder in my ears.

Opening my eyes under the water, the last thing I see is a flash of green-blue, and then blackness blocking out the last of the sun.


	2. Chapter 2

"You are an idiot, and a strange human," someone calls to me with a reprimanding tone.

I leap upward, startled, and glance over to find a naked boy about my age or younger sitting next to me, his knees drawn up to his lightly muscled, lithe chest. He cocks his head at me, his eyes large, watery, sympathetic, questioning, curious, and _beautiful._ They are a blue-green-grey, like the calm sea before a storm. But his pupils are a flickering charcoal-silver instead of dull black. And his skin is an impossibly creamy-pale, impossibly clean, and unmarked, save for a small scar on his neck on the side facing me. His hair is wind-dried, as if he had been sitting there in the sun for a while. It's light brown, on the brink of being dark blond.

I swallow. I have never seen someone so incredibly attractive in my life, female _or _male. He looks like something Heaven-sent.

Processing his words, I frown and retort, "I am no idiot! Who are you to judge me, stranger? And why do you call me human when you are human yourself?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Again, I call you a fool, and justly so. I am not human, David."

"How do you know my name?" I ask as I slowly scramble to my feet in the sand, the ghost feeling of water around my clothes and skin (clothes still damp, especially on the underside). "And what do you mean, not hu–"

I cut myself off with a gasp as he sits on the edge of the shore, feet sliding into the water as the waves rush up to about his knees. Instantly, scales grow and his feet form together into fins, scales sliding out of his skin and flattening wherever the water touches.

In his melodic voice, he glances back at me and remarks, tone as flat and blunt as ever, "Do you understand now? I am a merman. And I saved your pathetic life. You owe a debt to me, because most merfolk – namely the mermaids – would have eaten your flesh."

So what they say is true: the myths about mermaids being real and captivating sailors only to eat them is not a lie. "But what of mermaids all being female, and thus 'maids' and not 'folk' or 'men?' Why are you a male?"

"Fool, mainly the women of our people seek out food because most people out at sea are men and not women, so the ones needing to be charmed are the men by mermaids. But we need to procreate, especially when so many of us are killed by your kind because we are a threat. But we are only trying to survive."

He removes his feet from the water and inches up to the dry sand until his feet are once again at the ends of his legs, the scales and fins melting away, sinking into his skin and out of sight. But his toes remain slightly webbed at the base, like his hands and shiny, scale-like fingernails.

I have to redirect my gaze to his face over and over again. His lower body is just as attractive as the rest of him, surprisingly.

"Well, then, I guess I understand. But why did you save me? What was the point of that? You could have let me die, or taken me to your people as food, or eaten me yourself. What makes me so special? I'm just one marooned pirate, no one important," I retort, skeptical of his intentions, particularly because he said that I _owe _him.

He stands and walks over to me, and he's so confident in his stride that I wonder if he doesn't know to be embarrassed of his nudity, because I sure am. "You sang before you attempted to kill yourself. I wanted to hear you sing again. Sing for me, and your debt will be repaid."

"Really? You only want me to sing?" I scoff, laughing. "That's a small debt."

"It is all I require," he replies, idly touching my lapel, straightening it of its wrinkles. "I will sing with you, if you like. And if I know the song. But I know most sea-songs, because I have heard them sung by many sailors as they passed over my home in the depths of the ocean."

With a wavering voice, I start to sing, getting clearer and stronger as this merman starts to smile at me with every line I belt out.

"_It's of a sailor bold__  
><em>_And lately come on shore__  
><em>_Both brisk and bold__  
><em>_Well lined with gold__  
><em>_To his lover he did repair_

"_In old and ragged dress__  
><em>_Unto his love did go__  
><em>_Unto his love__  
><em>_All for to prove__  
><em>_Whether she'll be kind or no._

"_My merchandise I've lost__  
><em>_My ship is gone astray__  
><em>_Which makes me fret__  
><em>_I'm deep in debt__  
><em>_Not a tenth part can I pay…"_

He starts to sing with me at this point, and he closes his eyes and sways on his feet. It's a wonder that he can walk and stand, considering he normally must swim. It makes me wonder if he practiced while I was unconscious, or if he had tread upon land before.

Together, we finish the song:

"_Come in, my dear, sit down__  
><em>_Put off thy ragged array__  
><em>_And I will be__  
><em>_So kind to thee__  
><em>_And all thy debts I'll pay_

"_I've gold in store of my own__  
><em>_My debts all for to clear__  
><em>_I've rings I've ribbons__  
><em>_I've jewels so bright__  
><em>_And gems to trick the hair_

"_'Twas down in Stockton Church__  
><em>_The happy knot was tied.__  
><em>_From land to land__  
><em>_There's no man can__  
><em>_Match the sailor and his bride."_

"Ah, that one has always been my favorite, but not many sing it," the merman states as he spins a little before sitting down. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs as he lays down in the shade of a palm tree. I follow suit, choosing to sit cross-legged and keep my eyes adverted from his smooth skin and long body (despite being shorter than me).

"I'm glad I could entertain you, then," I snort. I play with a sprig of grass amidst sand by my boot. It's hot, so I unbutton the shirt beneath my jacket, mindful of the belt going across one shoulder and diagonally over my chest.

"Hmm, yes. You are certainly the most interesting human I have ever spoken to. And the first that I have not killed. I sense a good heart in you, a pure one, and that is uncommon."

"Sense? You can sense something like that?" I say disbelievingly, choosing to glance over at him and look solely at his glassy, lovely eyes.

"Naturally," he smirks. Looking up at me, he explains, "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'eyes are the window to the soul?' Well, as it happens, this is true between merfolk and humans. Through your eyes, I can see your true self, the one even you are not aware of. That is how we choose who to attack and who to leave alive: we pick out the bad seeds and rid the world of them. We are not as barbaric as you might think." He nods, and hums a little as he closes his eyes again. "And you, David, are a warm, bright seed. You will grow into something wonderful some day."

I feel a pang in my chest, a pleasant one, and my face goes soft. "Thank you. But I ask again: how do you know my name?"

"It is written on the blade of your sword. Did you not carve it there yourself?"

I did, when I made a new name for myself and adopted it along with my pirating life. The surname of my caretaker as a child was Karofsky, and before I was a pirate, my name had been Allen. But I didn't want any of that life any longer, so I became David, just David, and while some pirates called me Dave, I always corrected them because I didn't want to be anything else.

"Oh. That makes sense," I murmur. And then I wonder aloud, "What is your name?"

"If I told you, you would not be able to pronounce it because it is in my people's language. The closest thing I can supply as my name that you would understand is 'Kurt.'"

I nod softly, and lean back on my palms as I spread out my legs before me. "Okay, Kurt. May I ask, then, what you plan on doing now that I've sang for you?"

"Return to the sea; at least, this is always an option. But I wonder: will you live, or attempt another suicide?" he asks, looking at me oddly, as if he cared.

I shrug. "Try to get off this island, I suppose, so I would say 'live.' But I would like it if you didn't leave just yet, Kurt."

"I did not plan on doing so, anyway. You are interesting," Kurt replies in a soft murmur. I find that I enjoy hearing his voice; it's just as soft and gorgeous as the rest of him, and I liked it best when he was using it to sing and harmonize with my own voice. "And you are different."

"I'm a pirate. We're all 'different,'" I respond at length. I sigh and gaze out at the sea, all traces of the previous storm completely washed away. "We are rebels of the law, we are deceptive and cruel, and we are hated by most. We are hanged and hunted, and we are a dying race as more and more of the world is being discovered."

"Merfolk are not too separate from pirates, then, because we are deceptive and cruel, and we are hated by most. But above all else, we are also a dying race, all because of how we survive. And it does not help that we are mortal immortals."

"What do you mean, 'mortal immortals?'" I puzzle as I look over at him. He is back in fetal position, his legs drawn up. He runs his hands over his forearms and down his legs. He must not be accustomed to them; they must fascinate him, too.

"We can be killed, but we live forever. We have three hearts; a human heart, a fish's heart, and a heart that is saved for our lovers. In our world, that third heart is the one we give to the ones we wish to spend the rest of our unaging lives with," Kurt says in a dim whisper, and finally, he turns his gaze to my face. "It does not kill us to remove that heart. And that heart – which looks a bit like a glowing sapphire – must be removed solely by our lovers, and then pressed into their chests, or else we _will _die. It might sound gruesome and strange to you – I can tell by your disgusted facial expression – but that is how we do things in our undersea culture."

"Truly bizarre," I say lowly, still frowning. I look out at the sea. "And it sounds painful. But if that's what you're used to…"

"It does not matter how painful it is. Love is meant to be painful, or else it would not be worth it," Kurt tells me firmly. His gaze is piercing and stunning; I can't look away.

He places his knees in the sand and leans over toward me. I swallow again, leaning backward, and don't break eye contact. "…Kurt?"

"David," he whispers, "Have you ever been in love with someone?"

I scoot backward, thinking that personal space must not be a common courtesy with his people. He seems completely unaware of human traditions. "U-uh," I stutter, "No… No, I can't say I have. I-I'm not very old or experienced, and… I haven't met many women."

"Do you think love is only between a male and a female? Can there not be love between others? Fathers love their sons. Mothers love their daughters."

"But that's… not quite the same," I supply as a vague, slightly breathless answer. "That's platonic. Being _in _love is romantic, and I haven't experienced that yet."

"Then, by your standards, is it possible to love someone by observing them? Speaking to them? Saving them?"

"You generally save people you care about, yes," I say, not liking how he keeps leaning in and in, getting closer when I try to move away. "A-and I guess you can fall in love with someone if you get to know them by watching them and talking to them, and finding that you like who they are." I pause, my eyes searching his. "…Why do you ask?"

He says casually, calmly, "Because I think I love you. Is that acceptable? Do you love me?"

My breath hitches in my throat. My hands dig into the sand, clenching nearly into fists. His eyelids lower slightly, and I stop pulling away. Quietly, I answer, "I haven't known you that long."

Kurt shakes his head. "You do not need time to fall in love, as far as I can tell. Many sailors fall in love with a mermaid's beauty first, and then her voice, and then _her,_ if given enough time to speak a few words with her. And you have done more than speak a few words with me, and I can tell by the way your eyes scan my frame that you think I am beautiful, and by your smile when we sang together that you fancy my voice." He lifts a hand and strokes it down the V my shirt shows of my bare chest, slick with sweat from the heat of the day. "Thus, I repeat myself: _do you love me?_"

"Yes," I say without a moment's hesitation. I reach out and touch his delicate face, his skin feeling oddly soft for someone who spends his life in the salty water of the ocean. Small grains of sand cling to his skin from my fingertips. I marvel at his lightly pointed ears, and his round eyes, and his high cheekbones. I sigh, my shoulders losing their tension as I gaze at his sweet face. "Yes, I love you. How could I not? I am not many things, and one thing I am is a weak-willed man."

"No, your will is very strong, you simply do not know it yet," Kurt breathes, and then the merman is closing the small gap between us, his cool lips pressing against my mouth. My thumb grazes his jaw, and my fingers curl to the nape of his neck. His skin is lukewarm, like a reptile heated in the sun. He is cold-blooded, I realize; cold-blooded like a fish.

He moves against me like an eel, however. He slithers and winds up to my side, his arms snaking around my torso as he pulls himself flush against me. I have to lean against the trunk of a nearby palm tree to stabilize myself as I pant through my nose, all the while feeling his slippery tongue, chill compared to my own like a drink of water, prying around in my mouth.

I let out a soft moan, and he jerks backward, startled with wide eyes, but his eyebrows quirked with intrigue. "What is that funny sound you made?"

I laugh breathlessly with embarrassment. "A sound of happiness," I say, running a hand through my hair. I have a (nude) merman perched between my legs, leaning into me, and he expects me to keep quiet?

My heart drums erratically in my chest as he shrugs a little and leans down to kiss the base of my throat. "You are like the sun," he whispers in his pretty voice, "Warm and intoxicating, but harmful. Like a true fish, I can fry in the sun. But I do not wish to part from your warmth, even though staying on land too long can harm me."

"Then go to the sea again," I say, my fingers brushing across his shoulder blades and skimming along his spine. He shivers and arches into me, and it's all I can do not to pin him down and claim him as my own. "And then return to me some other time. I doubt I will be able to leave this island any time soon. My cold-hearted captain marooned me well; ships hardly trade here. But it was my own fault; I was the cause for the mutiny against her."

Kurt's eyes zoom side to side, searching my face, as if looking for an answer for some internal dilemma. Finally, he nods once, leans back and away, and replies, "You chose well, even if it was a move against your commander. Not only did it bring you to me, but the action was done out of bravery. Your pure heart shines true again, David. You cannot see it, but to me, that is proof."

I beam at him, because I honestly hadn't expected anyone to take it that way. I have felt ashamed this entire time for what I had done, but now, because of him, I see it as a mark of something distantly heroic. "Thank you, Kurt," I tell him sincerely.

He smiles faintly as he stands up. "You are most welcome. I will visit you again soon, David." And he turns and heads for the water.

"I will wait for you," I call after him, scrambling to my unsteady feet, my insides still alit with pleasure from his touch. I feel like I can trust him, even though I know I shouldn't. Who has ever trusted a mermaid? They are fickle creatures, I hear-tell. But… while I am not a believer in much of anything, I know that he is not a figment of my imagination because I have touched him and he is solid, and I did not die, or else I would have no heartbeat. So this happened, and it is true, and he said that he loved me, and from what he told me, mermaids certainly do not take love lightly.

Of course, he could have been lying the entire time, and he could plan to lure me into the sea and feast on me, but wouldn't he have done so already if that were his intention?

So I will trust him, and I will remain here even if a ship comes by, because I need to see him again, now that he has become so precious to me, my own sliver of rapture in an otherwise dismal and depressing situation.


	3. Chapter 3

It's five days until Kurt returns, his head popping up from the level surface of the water off-shore, his hair flattened down and slicked back, his skin glistening with droplets of water as he swims as near to the shore as he can.

"Some assistance would be nice, David!" he bossily calls out to me, and with a chuckle, I wade out into the water and bend down to scoop him up into my arms.

He starts to instantly dry when he's out of the water, and as he does so, his tail turns into two scrawny (but toned) legs in my arms. I set him down on the sandy shore, and he yanks me down with him to kiss me.

"I have missed you a great deal. I did not think it possible for me to miss someone, but I have missed you," Kurt relays with the utmost sincerity, so separate from his usually calm, almost stoic tone. He can't stand since he hasn't been on land in so long, so he drags me down and lays beside me, his cool body lined up with mine, his feet somewhere against my ankles because of our height difference.

I'm amused by his eagerness and mischievousness, and decide to play along, smiling a little into each kiss as my hands wrap around him and keep him safe.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," Kurt breathes onto my throat. I shudder and grip him tighter, my hand sliding to rest in the dip of his lower back, his skin even smoother and more tender closer to where his tail would normally be. He goes on, "I honestly forgot how young and handsome you are, because five days back in my own world is like an eternity to me. I do not understand how my people live so long without the land; I have come to cherish it."

"Because of me?" I desperately want to know as I return his fervor tenfold, my mouth barely able to get out the words between breaths and kisses, because I longed to get to know his body better since he left.

"Yes, because of you," Kurt whispers. "And because of the wonders of land. Trees, grass, dry sand, birds, fruits, mammals. I wish I could see it all. I wish I could escape with you from this island, and I wish I could be fully human." He trembles, and then, suddenly, a tear falls from one of his eyes. I heard so many rumors about how valuable a mermaid's (or merman's) tear is, and rumors about their rarity, their healing abilities, and their taste; according to legend, mermaid tears are like sugar-water, not saltwater like human tears.

Instinctively, I crane my neck and touch the tip of my warm tongue to his cheek, capturing his tear and tasting it. The legend is true; his tears are sweet, like sugar. And he whimpers a little at the contact, then covers his mouth with a nimble-fingered hand in surprise at the sound.

"I am going to get off this island somehow," I promise him, "And then I will make port in some colony in the Caribbean, near enough where you can find me. And on nights of the black phase of the moon, I will go out to the docks and wait for you there. And for a full two days – as long as you lasted the fist time we met – I will show you the other wonders of human nature and land. Then you can return to the sea, and I will wait until the next phase again. Does this sound fair?"

"More than I could have suggested myself," Kurt says with a smile and a light chuckle, and I find that his laughter is even more beautiful than the rest of him, because it shines with true giddiness, as pure and white as freshly fallen snow. "I will agree to it. But how will I find you once you make port?"

"You can't go wrong by traveling west. I will go to the docks every night until you find which set of docks at which island is mine. You are a fast swimmer, are you not? So it shouldn't be that challenging. And I swear to keep to the Caribbean only. That is this sea, if you did not know."

"I knew," he answers as he tucks his head under my chin, his arms holding fast around me where we lay in the sun. I make sure to shield him with my body, forever protecting him from any harmful rays. "I have come to learn the names given to every water across the ocean. We have different names for them, of course, but I still know your terms." He pauses, then glances up at me and says strongly, "It is settled, then: you will do precisely that, and I will wait to see you again. But I wonder, David…"

"Yes?" I say with a smile, content with our agreement.

He buries his face in my chest and murmurs, "Being no longer a pirate because of your life on land to come, will you find a woman to marry, or will you remain faithful to me?" And he sounds pained as he asks this, his throat closing up as his voice goes thin.

I tighten my grip on him and use a hand to lift his chin until our eyes meet. With the most honest and heartfelt tone I can use, I tell him fiercely, "No, Kurt. I would not dare do that to you. I am yours, and no woman could ever replace you, nor compete with your beauty or kindness. Your hearts are more human than a third; your soul more pure than a newborn's. You saved my life when you didn't have to, and you love me. That is enough to change me of my pirating ways, and that speaks for itself, does it not?"

He smiles, nods, and as I brush my fingers over his cute little ears, he snuggles into me again. "Good; then I can quell my nagging doubts, because that is all I was worried about."


	4. Chapter 4

It takes me a little over a month to find a place to stay. I wind up living in a colony called King Bay, and the English heavily controls and supplies it. I try my best to keep a low profile; I can't have anyone knowing that I am a pirate, even former, because they still would hang me for my previous crimes if they knew.

I choose to use the name Dave Karofsky, taking my former father figure's last name and my crewmates' old nickname for me, because a pirate known just as David and a strange drifter known only as David is too suspicious.

Each night after my arrival, I wait by the docks in the bay. I dip my toes into the water where my feet dangle from the barnacle-littered planks. The tide varies at this time of night; last night, my ankles were in the water, but tonight it is only my toes. I like how cool the water feels on my skin; it reminds me of my love, my tiny merman.

It's night after night around midnight during every phase of the moon, and there is no sign of mermaids at all. They tend to prey on ships in the ocean or near their turf or around deserted islands; they do not like the heavily or newly populated, for fear of being hunted. So I feel suddenly fearful and foolish, asking Kurt to do this. Perhaps he realized my folly and wised up.

However, half a year since I last seen Kurt, I see him again.

He swims right up to the dock that has the only figure perched upon it, the figure of course being myself. I leap into the water as soon as I recognize him in the light of the quarter-moon. He embraces me on contact, dragging me down a smidge, but I don't care. I start to weep with joy as I cling to him, kissing his porcelain face.

Together, we swim (well, Kurt swims, and he mostly carries me through the water) to the shore until the water is too shallow, and I pick him up like before.

"I thought I would never find you," Kurt says with a high voice, as if hysterical, but his face is calm except for his blinking, watery eyes. He does not cry, but he can't take his eyes off of me, and I unashamedly do the same to him as his tailfin reverts into a set of human legs. He wraps his arms around my neck and repeats over and over how he loves me.

"I love you so much," I tell him. "I waited for you. I lived in an inn, got a job, and then bought supplies to craft my own cottage on a hill that overlooks the sea. I came here every night, and at one point, people stopped asking why, because I always told them it was because I liked to watch the tides. They find me strange, but I _am _strange, because what man chooses to be with a merman? But I don't care, I don't care in the least, because you are all I need."

Kurt starts to cry more than a single tear this time, and I lean in and kiss away each and every one, my lips soaked with sweetness. I cover him up with some of my clothes and carry him to my home, since he hasn't walked in months and can't remember how, nor balance properly.

That night, I teach him to walk again, and feeling proud of himself, he tackles me onto my bed and kisses me. But I don't stop. I continue kissing and touching him until he is beneath me, and I experiment with trying to make love to him, even though I have never done so with a woman, let alone another man like myself. But I find a way, and he seems to enjoy it, and I am just glad that I am able to please the person I love.

The next morning, people around town stare at Kurt as I walk him through King Bay and show him and teach him things, telling everyone that he is my cousin, a foreigner from overseas, and when they ask about his lightly pointed ears, I just tell that that it is a deformity from the womb, nothing serious. And when they ask about his oddly-colored, shimmering fingernails, I tell them that he has the habit of painting them like a woman, using crushed sea shells as pigment, ever since his sister tested her own homemade polish on him when they were small.

The lies come naturally to me from years of practice as a manipulative pirate (they have to be smooth-talkers and liars to get around being caught, and to get what they desire), and no one second-guesses my tales. Kurt smirks at each new lie, clearly amused by my creativity, and how curious it is for humans to be assured of things and explained to.

I show my lover each and every little wonder that I know of, varying from foods that he tries and finds that he likes (some giving him a stomach ache; as it turns out, his stomach cannot handle any other meat than human flesh, so he chooses to only partake in devouring fruits and vegetables and breads; he likes pastries best, however) to activities he discovers that he enjoys, like cartwheels in the grassy knoll that a little girl teaches him to do, and archery that he has a knack for due to his oddly good aim.

After our two days are up, I say farewell to him as I lower him into the water off of the dock, a pile of clothes he wore lying at my feet. He pulls himself up from the low tide and kisses me before ducking underwater and swimming away.

"Until the new moon, my love," I whisper to myself, watching a flicker in the reflections of the water that indicates his path. When all of the ripples fade, I return home, already bored with my life until he's back in it again.


	5. Chapter 5

Making love the first night Kurt is back on land becomes a habit for the next four phases of the moon. With each visit, he becomes more and more a part of me. I cannot let him go.

But one day, some pirates come into King Bay. One of them recognizes me, and when they see Kurt standing beside me, they go as white as a sheet.

"Those pointed ears… that g'damn flawless beauty… That be a _mermaid_! And a _male _one at that! I di'n't even know ther' _were _male mermaids!"

"Shut your mouth!" I bark at him, stepping away from Kurt and growling at the dirty scum of the sea. I regret ever being one of his kind, because all it ever brought me was grief. "You know nothing, and you are gravely mistaken. Now remove your sorry yella-belly ass from my sight before I force you to resort to having a hook for a hand like all of the famous pirates!"

The guy gives me the stink-eye, glaring for all he's worth. "Ye changed, David. This creature 'as bewitched ye." He narrows his eyes as he begins to walk backwards and away. Pointing a finger, he threatens, "Mark me words, Davey-boy, this merman'll con you ter believe it love ye, then it'll snatch up yer heart and eat it right b'fore yer eyes!"

"Get out of here!" I shout at him, and he turns and high-tails it away as I lunge forward to intimidate him. Spitting the ground he once stood on, I rub my nose and return to Kurt's side, my face relaxing as soon as I set sights on his worried, innocent-looking face.

He trips a bit as he comes to me, his hands locking behind my head. "I put you in danger," he says with a frightened voice, and my stomach sinks at the fear in his tone. It doesn't belong there; he should never be afraid, because he always acts so unafraid toward everything else.

I shush him and stroke his hair to calm him down. A woman walks by and looks at us oddly before she recognizes us and shrugs it off as family compassion, since everyone here thinks that he and I are cousins.

"I was just about to say that to you," I tease to lighten the mood. With a final, gentle pat to his back, I pull away. "Come on, let's go back to my cottage. Today is not a good day for sightseeing, not with all these traitorous sea dogs lurking about. Who knows what that nasty pirate will say, and I do not wish to find out."

"Nay, neither do I," Kurt whispers, and he takes my hand and squeezes it as we trek back to my humble abode.

Unfortunately, they come for him in the night.

Apparently, mermaids are very valuable for various reasons, especially when they are vulnerable in their two-legged forms. And Kurt being the only male seen to date makes him all the more valuable, but thankfully, less vulnerable, because just like humans, male merfolk have more strength than the females.

It takes five pirates to beat me down enough where I can no longer protect my lover. I scream for him, even as they kick and punch and cut me while I wrestle and fight to break free, more and more pain and blows striking me and weakening me. But I don't give up. I am not many things, but one thing I am in this moment is determined. I _will _save Kurt if it is the last thing I ever do.

"Quit your bitchin', Dave," one of the pirates spits at me, toeing me with his stinky boot and using the barrel of his pistol to lift my chin to meet his gaze. One of my eyes is swollen shut, so it's difficult to see him, and even harder to focus on him when my stomach is aching from kicks and my side is stinging from a cut, my arms and legs burning with developing bruises as I try to break the hold of the five men weighing down on me. He goes on, "We'll be taking good care of your little fuck-buddy, don't you worry."

"Leave him be!" I holler, reduced to forceful begging. "I will bargain with you, I will call out parley, I will do _anything _if you let him go."

"No can do, David. See, my crew is not of the generous sort, and we desperately need the use of your mermai– I mean, mer_man. _He be a special breed, ye might say, and that's worth a whole stack of gold 'n' jewels, understand?" the filthy pirate breathes down my neck where he looms over me. I've been reduced to my knees long ago, and in my tiny cottage, I can see the men of this bloody captain's crew tie Kurt up in a net and start to drag him away.

I'm sobbing as I watch him go, all the while screaming how I plan to come after him, and how much I love him, and how sorry I am that I put him in harm's way. Kurt is gagged so that he can't use his hypnotizing singing, and so the last glimpse I get of him is a whimper and teary eyes.

In a violent rage flaring up within me, I throw my weight back and toss off three of the five, and the last two holding my arms I swing together to collide with one another in front of me. With a roar, I charge into and head-butt the captain – one of his crew calling out, "Ah! Cap'n Blaine!" (so this is the infamous Blaine Anderson, former son of a governor? What a joke) – and take him down. A few bullets are fired at me, and my wounds either bleed onto the floor or send shockwaves of pain through me, but I plow onward, bolting outside and down the hill to the running figures carrying Kurt in their net on this dark, moonless night.

"Kurt!" I yell with a raspy voice as I run, panting, stumbling, down the hill after him. "_Kuuurt_!"

I hear a muffled scream, and then I see the group reach the docks, about to board their ship.

"Oh _no,_ you don't," I utter gutturally under my breath as I pitch forward, pushing my wounded body past its limit as I gain some speed. My lungs are on fire, my heart is about to fall out of my chest, and I feel bile rising in the back of my throat as my stomach churns with the deepest sense of terror and selfless love.

"After him! We can't have him take our prize from us, men!" Blaine screeches behind me as he chases me. But I don't even give him a second glance as I aim for my goal: Blaine's vessel.

But as soon as I reach the dock, pausing to see where Kurt is taken on board, Blaine and his men catch up with me and start tying me up, tossing me down into the water.

Saltwater rises all around me, bubbles springing up and the darkness creeping everywhere in sight. I see shadows flicker above, and as I start to float upward again, I hear the loud swishing of the ship moving out to sea. If I didn't have to hold my breath, I would be screaming, because I can't let them get away, not when the thing I hold most dear to me, the one thing that redeemed me from a life of wickedness, is sailing away with them.

Kicking and thrashing in the water, I free myself of my bonds. I burst from the water and see that the ship isn't too far ahead yet. If I swim, I won't be high enough to make it to get a decent foothold on the vessel, but if I commandeer a ship of my own from the port… I might be able to catch up with them and shoot them down with canon-fire to weaken them before boarding the ship and rescuing my Kurt.

Nodding mentally at my plan, I swim as fast as my battered body will take me. Adrenaline is the sole thing keeping me from crying out in agony, and I know that I am going to be at Death's door later with how I keep abusing my already abused frame, but it is the least I can do. Kurt matters more than I do in my own heart and mind.

I toss a man overboard who is keeping watch of a nice, fast ship, and I send my apologies down to him as I start to raise the sails. It's thankfully small enough to be manned by at least three men, but I make do with solely myself.

Seeing the sun start to rise on the horizon, turning the black night into a light blue, then purple, then pink dawn, I race after the ship in the distance, Hell-bent on getting back what is mine.


	6. Chapter 6

When I'm finally on board Blaine's ship, it's a stealthy sneak-on tactic that will probably get me killed before I reach Kurt if I'm not careful.

I find him in the ship's hold, sweating and gasping through his gag because he's growing faint without a renewed source of water around him. His head is drooping and he looks like he's about to pass out.

I come upon him from the side, wary of the men stationed nearby, asleep at their guard posts, one of the crew members leaning on his sword stabbed into the wooden floor.

Kurt snaps mostly out of his daze when he sees me. He's been out of the water for a total of six days now, and his skin feels pasty and dehydrated, even though I can tell that they've been keeping him fed. He groans softly when I remove his gag and cut open the bonds on his wrists and ankles; there are terrible rope-burns in the bonds' place, and they look like they are just as agonizing as his thirst for seawater.

"Don't worry, Kurt, I'm getting you out of here," I whisper. I kiss him on the cheek and pick him up. He feels a little lighter than he should, and he sags in my arms, not even strong enough to grab onto me.

But as soon as I'm up on deck, I find Blaine and about fifteen of his men surrounding the entrance to the hold.

"I give ye props for getting this far," Blaine remarks fluidly as he steps around some of his men and stands in front of me. "But I'll be takin' him back, now. We're almost where we need to be, David, and I can't have ye interfering." He nods to someone on his right, and they advance on me.

"Forgive me, Kurt, but I have to put you down," I say in a rush, setting him on the deck in front of the closed doors of the hold below. "Try to stay behind me if you can," I order as I withdraw my sword and point it at the aggressors in front of me. "And get to the side of the ship! Make it to the water!" I shout, lunging forward and clashing blades with a pirate, then another, and then Blaine himself.

Kurt nods deftly as he moves to my side and then runs with unstable legs as wobbly as a bucket of pig fat. I watch as he launches himself over the side of the ship, diving into the water.

And then, that's it. I sigh with relief and give myself up, dropping my weapon. "You'll never catch him now, Captain," I grin viciously at Blaine as his men tie my hands behind my back. "You'll have to go after another mermaid, because that one is going to be long gone."

It aches my heart that I will never see or touch him again, but I hope he knows that I love him. I hope he's safe, and I hope he can find somebody else to love him, because he deserves it.


	7. Chapter 7

There is scuff on my chin from a week of not shaving as I lay hazily where I'm tied to a palm tree on the same goddamn island I was marooned on the first time. Except Blaine didn't know that, and Blaine is more spiteful than Captain Sue, so I'm suddenly left as food for the birds, stranded here without a pistol with a single shot or anything.

I fade in and out of consciousness, the heat and lack of food and water for the past two or three days behind nearly enough to kill me. My wounds have long since turned a mottled purple or crusted over a dark red, one of them – the deepest on my left set of ribs – starting to get infected, oozing yellow-green puss and attracting flies.

I groan with pain every now and then, when I have the strength, or when my throat isn't too dried up to do so, which is usually at night or in the afternoon shade, when the sun isn't beating down on me.

One morning, just as Death is about to greet me with open arms, a lazy smile comes to my chapped, bloody lips. I see Kurt, naked from freshly turning humanoid as always, his cool hands on my face, trying to lift my eyes to see him.

My vision is blurred and spinning, so I know that this must be an illusion. I continue to grin oddly as I manage to croak, "At least God blessed me with this mirage before I die." More to the illusion itself, I say, "I love you, Kurt. I'm glad you… are safe…" And I feel the Final Sleep tug at me.

Something wet and cool touches my face, and the pressure on my shoulders tremble. Something loosens the rope around my chest, and I pitch forward, caught only by the oddly firm mirage. "You fool! I am not a vision from your imagination, I am real! Stay with me, you blundering idiot, stay with me…"

I'm dragged slowly onto the sand, close to the water, my body like lead. Kurt – is it truly him? – crawls, still unused to his legs after a while without them again, and weeps over me, his hand wiping his face and touching various places on my body. Then he gets up and stumbles over to the water, taking it into his mouth – careful to keep his legs away from the waves – and returns, his lips pressing to my lips as he feeds me the seawater, but oddly enough, it tastes like freshwater, as if he purified it.

They say that a mermaid's kiss can save a dying man, be it to deliver oxygen while he drowns or, in this case, freshwater when he thirsts. Kurt goes back and forth, force-feeding me the clean water, and then reaches for the heel of my leather boots, where I have a hidden knife Blaine didn't find when he searched me before marooning me.

Kurt removes the knife, and then lifts it up. I wonder what he's aiming to do with it, but suddenly he drives it down toward his sternum, and I bolt upright with a burst of energy to stop him.

"Nooo!" I yell, grasping his hands just in time. The short dagger pricks his skin and dark blue blood oozes out, but only a droplet. "A-are you insane? I'm not… dying yet…"

"I know that!" Kurt returns passionately. He points to his chest as tears flow from his cheeks again. "I was trying to save you. I have three hearts, remember? One of a fish, one of a human, and one…"

"…For your lover," I finish, realization dawning on me. I cry out, "But you can't take it out yourself! You said only your chosen one could do that, or else you will… you'll _die_." The final word is whispered, and it feels like a physical puncture to my chest.

Kurt nods softly, bending down to cup the side of my face in his cool, smooth, long-fingered hand. "I know, David. I know. But you're worth it. I saved you once, you saved me, and now I must save you again. Your life should not be so short; already I have lived fifty of your years, did you know that? But my body stops aging at about twenty of them. In my eyes, I have lived long enough. And this year that I have known you has been the only one which truly matters to me."

And once again, he leans back on his knees and raises the knife to his bare chest.

"Wait! I am strong enough. I will do it so you will not die," I whisper, and I shakily force myself onto my elbows, and then, with Kurt's help, onto my knees like him. I stabilize myself with one hand on his shoulder, but as I take the dagger into my grasp, I find that it's impossible. I can't intentionally harm whom I love with my entire being, even if I know it will not end his life.

I drop the dagger and kiss him instead, and I keep my eyes open and watch his own grow wide with shock, then close as he sinks into the kiss. I fall backward, losing my temporary strength, and he lands on top of me.

"I love you, David," Kurt murmurs, "And I cannot let you die. Please, even if it will hurt me for a short while, you _must _remove the third heart and heal yourself. It will make you one of my kind, and bond you to me permanently. Please, I beg you: carve it out. You will see which one it is if you just open my chest."

"No, no," I say, breaking down beneath him. I roll onto my side, shoving him off as I weep, my body still wracked with pain. "I can't, Kurt. I simply _can't._"

Kurt takes my hand in his and places something hard into my palm. I open my eyes and look down, seeing the dagger in my grip, Kurt's hand keeping it there, as he lies in front of me and places the point on the mark he made before. "You have to if you want to live beyond the limited moments I granted you with my tears and the few drinks I gave you. We must hurry, and this is the only way with our limited resources. Please, David. There are no coconuts or limes on the trees, the crabs have all gone away, and the pool of freshwater has dried up since last time. You have no choice."

Tears are streaming down my face, leaving trails in the sand and dirt. I nod numbly, and with a reassuring smile, Kurt uses my hand to dig the blade into his skin, past the muscle and under his bone. He bites his lips until it bleeds blue, and he whimpers and groans in pain as he wrenches the blade back and forth to lift the bone and reach his heart. I look away when I see something glow beyond all of the blood and the disappearing metal. I can't watch this, can't think how I'm hurting him all to save my rotten self.

Kurt seizes and gasps, and drops my hand. I open my eyes to find him lying in the sand, tremors running through him, something glowing in the sand between us amidst a puddle of dark blue blood. It's like a gem, like he said, all rich blue and shining with an inner light that makes it blossom with radiance on the ground. With blood trickling down his lips, Kurt smiles a small half-smile and instructs, "P-press it… to y-your heart…"

Swallowing my nerves, I pick it up, and it is the warmest part of Kurt that I have ever felt. It vibrates in my hand, as if still beating, and I'm terrified of it and in awe of it at the same time. I roll onto my back and, with both hands, shove it into my chest. It slips right past the skin and absorbs into me, leaving behind a smudge of blood on my pectorals, but nothing more.

"…Now kiss me w-where I am o-open…" Kurt rasps, and I feel perfectly healthy again and immediately move to press my lips to the wound, and it's odd how his blood tastes: thick and animal and a bit like how I imagine mercury would taste. He arches his back into a C-shape, and then, miraculously, the wound closes up and he exhales with a sigh of relief.

Standing, Kurt takes my hand and helps me stand as well, and then leads me into the water. I collapse as soon as the waves touch me, a ripple of tingling sensations ripping through my body from the toes to my hips as I fall into the water and watch my legs merge and turn into a fish's tail. I hadn't thought it possible, the way he described, but it's true: I am now a merman like my lover.

"I was not sure that would work," Kurt says with a relieved laugh as he joins me in the water and we begin to sweep out to sea with the undertow. "Turning you into one of my kind. But it had, and I am glad," he states as he washes himself of all of the blood, and helps me shed my clothes.

"I'm so glad it did," I murmur, "Because now I can fully be with you."

He nods, and then, like a dolphin, dives under the water, engaging me in a playful chase, our troubles behind us.

We watch the articles of clothing drift off into the water as we swim circles around one another, and I never thought my life could become something like this. But it's real, as real as the stars in the night sky, and I have never been happier.


End file.
